


ADLIGARE

by otterwise



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: After the movies, Credence Barebone Lives, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Credence Barebone is bad at communicating, Hurt Original Percival Graves, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Percival Graves is smitten, and so am i, but not very, so much, there's gonna be smut I swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otterwise/pseuds/otterwise
Summary: Percival Graves isn't doing so well, and finding a feral looking Obscurial in his basement certainly doesn't help very much.Neither do the strange nightly visits of his houseguest. Or, well, maybe they do.





	1. The first time they met

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just giving this a try, if there are any grammar mistakes please don't hesitate to let me know! And comments would be absolutely amazing!! xxx

  
The first time they met, Percival Graves was drunk.

He wasn’t thinking clearly, his hair wasn’t neat like he used to style it and he was wearing a pair of pyjamas he hadn’t taken off for four days straight. It was five months after Grindelwald had been caught and they’d found him in a hidden room of his own house.  
The first face he had seen after three months of imprisonment was that of Seraphina Piquery, because it had taken the president herself to lift the wards and locks Grindelwald had put on the house during his stay in it. He remembered the hurt in her eyes as she looked at him, the guilt, and these days he wondered if she would ever look at him the way she used to again.  
  
After that, he’d been kept in the infirmary at MACUSA for three months to recover. He’d had the best healers trying to mend some of the mess Grindelwald had left of his mind. Now, he was allowed to stay in his own home that had been returned to it’s original state as much as possible, but he was still part of an ongoing investigation.  
  
So he got drunk, because it didn’t matter, and he didn’t wash or shave or do much more than occasionally brush his teeth because his mouth tasted like death. A Graves was supposed to die protecting the ones who couldn’t fight for themselves, and here he was. In the end, Grindelwald had probably plucked state secrets right out of his mind like a little girl picking flowers from her neighbors garden.  
His new wards never went off, remained completely silent, but there was a faint noise coming from the cellar. It was a tapping, scratching kind of thing and Percival wouldn’t have thought too much of it once upon a time, but these days were different. His house didn’t feel like safety, or like home, it felt like a foreign place that had betrayed him the way only something you truly trusted could do. His wand felt the same way. Where it used to give him a feeling of control it now felt like it was nothing but a cold, polished piece of wood that didn’t represent him anymore. Still, he clutched it tightly as he silently opened the door to the cellar and the noise immediately got louder. It was like someone was hitting some sort of metal object, and the rhythm of it made Graves decide that it definitely was caused by a living thing.  
As he ascended the stairs slowly with bare feet, he could see that the tiny window on one side of the cellar had been pushed open, and the hairs on the back of his neck immediately stood up as his body tried to prepare for a fight.  
  
But he wasn’t prepared. Not for the _thing_ hunching in the far corner of his cellar or the way bony hands were urgently banging what looked like one of the cans of baked beans Percival kept down here against a sharp brick edge. It vaguely reminded Graves of a raccoon he’d seen in an alley once on his way home, a thin and starving thing trying to open a box of cookies next to a trashcan. This creature looked just as desperate, fingers slightly uncoordinated and ragged, the dark mop of hair matted and in dirty strands. It didn’t look fully human, parts of the figure were blurring into a cloud of black smoke that moved in a strange pattern. It had it’s back to Graves, and he could barely make out the shape of the ragged, dirty clothes hanging from too thin shoulders but he was pretty sure he could see the knobs of the boy’s spine, the shape of his ribs through the worn fabric. 

Percival found himself wishing he didn’t have that whiskey now, and that his head wouldn’t feel so heavy so that he could trust his own mind, but for the time all he could think was that the obscurial he had read about in all the reports was alive, /in his house/. The boy Grindelwald had used, not unlike he had used Graves’ face. Only that the boy had been innocent, neglected, _defenseless_ up until the point he had lost control of his own strength. Percival had read Tina Goldstein’s report, had picked up on the bitterness between the lines as she described the obscurial’s execution.  
  
Graves didn’t realize that he had completely frozen in place, holding his breath until he heard himself suck in some air, and the faint noise was enough to make the whole situation escalate. The _creature_ \- the boy, man, whatever, reared around like he’d been his and for a terrifying moment Percival saw dark eyes go completely white at the sight of him, before everything exploded into black. Graves felt numb and all he could do was to throw up a hasty magical shield around himself as something icy slammed into his chest, knocking his head back against the brick wall with a painful crack. He heard the sound of his wand hitting the floor more than he even felt it leaving his hand and he reached out to catch himself as he was thrown to the ground. His right hand caught on the rough brick wall and some sort of sharp edge cut right through his skin in the middle of his palm. It was the feeling of blood, so very warm when the pressure of solid black smoke around Graves’ was so cold that finally snapped him out of his haze. There was a rush of adrenaline, his instinct to /survive/ kicking in for the first time in months and without thinking, he gathered his magic and hurled it towards the creature pushing him down with no words but strong intent, making the mass retreat a few steps. Percival rolled away before the mass of black crashed into the wall next to the little open window with a force that had the bricks there splintering and the ground shaking. 

„Wait!“ Percival shouted, finding his voice at last. 

To his surprise, the creature stilled for a second at the sound of it, seemingly hesitating, before it moved jerkily closer to the window. It pooled like smoke beneath the ceiling and in the corners, clearly torn between attacking Graves again but also staying as far away as the cellar would allow. It was about to flee, Graves realized as he pushed himself up to his feet.  
 „I’m not who you think I am. Credence, is it?“ he asked, but apparently the obscurus was done listening because it gathered and jerked closer to the little window. Only when it slammed shut did Graves realize that he had reached out with his wandless magic to close it.  
  
The cloud whipped around as if to look at him, size him up, and Graves raised both his hands in a placating gesture, one of his palms still dripping blood.  
„I’m sorry, I can’t let you leave like this.“ Graves decided out loud.

He felt oddly calm. For the first time in nearly a year, he felt like he could make a decision. Percival had failed his country, his president, friends, and his family name. He should've died before Grindelwald had a chance to pluck any answers out of his mind, he should have died protecting his country and the people he cared about. Even if apparently, he'd never actually let those people get close enough to even notice his replacement.  
Life had just given him a second chance at doing the right thing, getting back as much honour as a man like Percival Graves deserved at this point.  
  
He remembered a story his mother used to tell him and his little sisters, of the great wizard Merlin himself, helping King Arthur and his knights.  
His favourite one had always been of the large dragon, a beast not even Merlin could defeat, and when the battle came to an end and it looked like Merlin would lose, the wizard used old, dark magic - _blood magic_ \- to tie his own life to the great beasts, connecting their very souls.  
"If I die, I shall take you with me.“ he remembered his mother telling them in the mock-deep and thunderous voice she had always used to voice Merlin, and it was a line little Percy had repeated over and over as he played pretend with his sisters in the following years. It had stuck with him that Merlin had been so ready to give his life protecting the ones he loved.  
  
Blood magic was forbidden, it was an old thing almost impossible to fully control. It could be used for a lot of evil and it could go terribly badly, he’d heard many horror stories about it back at Ilvermorny. But now he was looking at a mass of black that twitched angrily and was probably about to lash out at him again, and he was blocking it’s way out into a world of innocent no-majs.  
_Intent_ , he reminded himself as he gathered all his magic, feeling it burn in his veins, ready to fight for him for the first time in months. It was all about the intent if you used a non existent spell. The words came without thinking, tidbits pulled together from over a decade ago when he’d learned latin in school.  
His cut hand was still bleeding as he raised it towards the mass before him, and as it lunged towards him he threw himself at it, meeting it halfway.  
  
„ _Adligare anima!_ " he heard himself shout and there was a flash of copper and gold, his bleeding hand made contact with something suddenly solid amongst the mass of black. There was searing pain, a distant scream, a shock of ice that burned through every vein in his body.  
  
Then, there was nothing but darkness as he passed out, crumbling in on himself against the damp floor. 


	2. A long night

The second time they met Percival wasn’t drunk anymore, but he found himself wishing that he was.

 

 

When he opened his eyes, it was due to the sunlight streaming through the tiny, dusty cellar window. For a moment Percival had to think about how he had gotten here, and when he remembered he wondered how on earth he was still alive. He had used blood magic to bind himself to an out of control obscurial, fully intending to die protecting the world from harm. 

Now, his chest felt heavy and cold and his head was aching badly. Percival blinked to get his eyes to focus, and the first thing he noticed was a can of beans laying next to himself, with dents and scratches all over. Was that what the obscurial had been here for? Food? Why on earth had he come here, had Grindelwald ever taken him back here? Where on earth had he been all this time, surely he hadn’t been able to completely fly under MACUSA’s radar for five months. Or maybe he had, they hadn’t even noticed that a psychopath had taken over the face of their director. Graves knew that that was more his fault than theirs, but now was not the time to be bitter. 

 

He reached up to rub the back of his head and froze for a moment at the sight of his own right hand- his wand hand. Where there had been a gash before there was now a thick, pitch black mark, raised and ragged like something had been trying to claw its way out from inside him. He clenched his hand around it and it stung in a way that made his whole body clench up. There was a clatter and a distant yelp from upstairs and Percival was on his feet in an instant, picking up his wand from the floor. If the obscurial was still in his house, and if the spell had worked he would be, Graves needed to find him. 

 

He took the steps two steps at a time, never mind that it made him feel so dizzy he nearly vomited once he reached the top. There was another sound and he followed it to the kitchen, where -to his surprise- he found a very human looking young man hunching in the far corner of the room. His eyes were brown and wide and looking vaguely in the direction of Percival’s shoes and his arms were raised above his head as if to shield himself. One of the drawers was open and boxes of tea and cereal were lying on the floor between them. 

Percival clenched his wand tighter, ignoring the pain in his hand as he did but to his surprise, the obscurial winced and hunched his shoulders even more.

„Please, sir..“ he pleaded, ever so quietly, ever so softly, his voice unmistakably scared. Percival swallowed and something in his chest ached. 

 

„Please what?“ Percival asked, forcing himself to talk through the lump in his throat. 

 

„It.. it hurts.“ the young man replied warily.

 

„What hurts?“ 

 

The obscurial hunched in on himself more tightly, both hands clutching his chest. He  was decidedly human now, even if he still looked like he was mere minutes away from starving. When he didn't respond Percival took a step towards him, but stopped when the boy flinched hard. He looked vulnerable, weak, and if Percival hadn't read the reports he might've believed that. But he had. He'd read about the destruction and death, fuck, he'd seen a small glimpse of that power down in that basement. It was an uncomfortable thought. 

Because just an hour or two ago he had made the decision to sacrifice himself to kill the obscurus once and for all, he'd felt _heroic_ doing it.

 

And now he found himself looking at a scared, starving young man and he couldn't help but remember Tina's face when she stopped him in the hall, all those months ago when he had been leading a different life. 

"His mother beats him. She hurts all her children, but she seems to hate him the most." She'd said, and he'd told her that it wasn't their responsibility, Miss Goldstein, leave it to the no-maj authorities and don't get involved. 

 "Credence, is it?" Percival asked, as if he didn't know that it was, as if he hadn't read the name Credence Barebone countless times since he'd been freed from Grindelwald's prison. 

 

The boy glanced up at him but remained quiet. 

 

Percival raised his free hand in a placating gesture and slowly went down on one knee, trying to get on the same level as the younger man. He didn’t know if Credence was about to turn into the obscurus again, and he didn’t particularly want to encourage that happening. Part of him also just didn’t like the terrified look on the boys face. 

 

„Listen to me, Credence. You’ve known someone with my face, someone who called themselves by my name. But that person wasn’t me. It was someone using my identity.“ he tried to explain, and to his surprise Credence nodded.

 

„I know.“ he said softly. „You look different. And I.. I saw Miss Tina and her British friend… take your face off that man. That blonde man.“ 

 

„Gellert Grindelwald.“ Percival offered, mildly surprised by the younger man’s understanding. _You look different._

 

Credence watched him thoughtfully for a moment, matted, dirty strands of black falling into his eyes. „You don’t act like him, either. He was more -…“ Credence stopped himself there, and the implication made Percival feel like he had been slapped. More. More in control. More attractive. More _not a complete mess._

 

It didn’t matter. This boy he had never met could tell the difference, while Percival’s colleagues and friends had not. Even a man like Gellert Grindelwald had left more of an impact in mere months than Graves had in years, apparently.  

 

He clenched his wand tighter in his hand, using the sting of the mark on his palm to ground himself and to his surprise, Credence flinched again and clutched at his chest. 

 

_Oh._

 

Percival shifted closer, ignoring the way the younger man’s shoulders hunched for a moment. „You felt that? Show me.“ he demanded, and he tried to ask nicely, but it was surprisingly easy to slip into his role as director Graves. 

Credence reacted to the authority in his words by swallowing and then - much to Percival’s surprise - obeying. He raised his head and lowered his hands, revealing a mark in the middle of his chest, just above the ragged shirt collar that looked like it had lost a few buttons at the top. Credence’s skin was pale, but there was an unmistakeable, ragged and raised scar there that looked eerily silver in colour. It had the exact shape Percival’s did, and there was dark, dried blood smeared around it and staining the fabric of the younger man’s shirt. Percival’s blood. 

 

„That is where I touched you? When I used that spell?“ Percival asked, and he barely picked up on the boy’s nod. Credence was staring at him, wide eyed but holding perfectly still. 

 

„What did you do to me, sir? I.. I can’t seem to change, and none of the doors and windows would open for me, I..“ the young man started, still quiet but sounding desperate. 

 

„You can’t change into your… other form?“

 

Credence shook his head. 

 

„I see. I.. connected us. Bound us together. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what it entails.“ he tried to explain without outright telling Credence what his actual reasoning behind the spell had been. He’d been _stupid_ , not heroic. Using a kind of experimental blood magic he only knew from a bloody children’s book story. He could’ve blown them both to pieces. 

 

„I’ll read up on it, it might just.. take a few days. I’ll adjust my wards so you can access the outside world, but I am going to have to ask you to stay here until we know what exactly this means.“ he tried to explain, standing up slowly and offering Credence his free hand, his other one was still holding onto his wand. 

 

The young man hesitated, but finally reached out to take the outstretched hand and allowed Percival to pull him up onto his feet. He was taller than expected, still hunched in on himself to make himself appear smaller. 

„You can eat anything you find in the fridge. I have a guest room you can use, and a shower, they are both just down the hall.“ Percival explained to fill the uncomfortable silence, and Credence watched him warily, held onto his hand just a tad longer than strictly necessary before he ducked away wordlessly. He stepped out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the bathroom, and before he reached it he glanced back over his shoulder at Percival as if to check that he wasn’t following. Percival remained where he was, staring after the young man a little helplessly until the bathroom door was pulled shut and the wizard was left with nothing but silence. 

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t see anything of Credence for the rest of the afternoon. 

 

Percival adjusted the wards so that Credence would be able to open windows and doors, but he made sure that they would still let him know if the younger man tried to leave. He knew he should be contacting Seraphina. Credence was a threat to national security and he had been sentenced to death. 

What Percival did instead was to update his wards so no one other than himself could apparate directly into his house, not even the President herself or his sisters. He tried to tell himself that it was out of self-protection. Blood magic was illegal and he would be punished for it, and even more so chances were that his spell had actually worked. If anyone would find Credence and he would be sentenced to death again Percival might die with him.

It wasn’t because of that little voice in the back of his head telling him that it wasn’t right, that Credence hadn’t meant the harm he caused. It wasn’t because Percival felt oddly /protective/ all of a sudden, or guilty about what he had almost done earlier that day. Definitely none of those things.

 

He left a pair of his own, black and white satin pyjamas in front of the closed bathroom door once he heard the shower turn on, hoping the offer would be clear enough. 

The clothes were gone when he checked the hall half an hour later, and the door of the guest bedroom had been pulled shut. Percival stood in the hallway for a moment, staring at the closed door before he turned to retreat to the library on the second floor, next to his own bedroom. 

He had to read up on blood magic and what on earth the marks on his hand and Credence's chest meant, and for now it seemed best to leave Credence to his own devices. 

 

Graves lost track of time going through old books and scrolls. There are were more texts about blood magic than Percival had expected, apparently one of his relatives must've had some sort of interest in it, but then most of what he read were just warnings not to use it due to it’s extreme nature. Any actual information and even some spells he found on it didn't really apply to this case, and when his eyes felt dry and didn't really focus on the text before him anymore he decided to call it a night. It was pitch black outside his window.

The wards hadn't gone off which meant Credence was still in the house, probably sleeping. Better leave him to it, Percival told himself, who knew where the young man had been staying and hiding all this time.

 

 

 

 

Percival dreamt of dark, almost feline eyes, of a sharp jawline and cold hands that felt like fire on his skin. He felt his own finger sink into silky black hair, felt the warmth of the younger man’s breath on his chest. The weight of a body half on top of him was comforting in a way it had never been in any other dream he’d had since he’d been captured by Grindelwald. Usually his dreams had been about feeling trapped, about the sting of spells and the desperation of a man close to death, but this was nothing like that. He could almost feel the shape of Credence’s lips against his skin. 

 

When the warm breath and those delicate hands left his torso Percival let out a small sound of protest, deep and slightly disoriented, and for a moment, the body pressed against his own went perfectly still. Percival was about to drift back into a much deeper sleep when those hands returned, but this time one of them cupped his cheek while the other one moved further up, soft fingers combing through the greying hair at Graves’ temples.

 

He heard someone shushing him ever so quietly and it was that that finally made his eyes open, disoriented and still not fully awake, but conscious enough to realize that something was off. Someone was there with him, the warmth against his side wasn’t just an illusion. Percival blinked into the darkness of his room before he turned his head a little, barely making out Credence’s face very close to his own. 

 

„What.. what are you doing?“ Percival asked, suddenly very awake as the hands still softly cradling his head froze in place along with the younger man hunching his shoulders. Instead of looking away though, the obscurial’s eyes stayed focused on Percival’s face. 

The younger man appeared to be completely naked and was half leaning over him, moulded to his side like was made to fit against Graves and the warmth of him was almost too much. One of his thighs was hooked over Percival’s leg just right, offering friction where the older man was aroused. 

 

„Credence… what are you doing?“ Percival asked again, his voice lower this time. He was much more aware now of just how close Credence was, could feel the man’s breath on his cheek. 

 

The obscurial watched him closely, swaying back and forth ever so slightly and with his shoulders still hunched like he expected to be thrown off or struck. There was worry in his expression, along with something much softer that was hard to place. His hand was still in Percival’s hair, and the nature of that touch was so /tender/ that the older man found himself reaching up to touch Credence’s shoulder to try and let him know that it was alright, that he was safe. Whatever was going on here, Percival would take his time figuring it out.

 

Or at least, that was the plan until Credence surged forward to press their lips together. It was all hard pressure and a kind of desperate eagerness, and after a few seconds of reeling from mental whiplash Percival found his hand moving up to cup the side of the younger man’s face. He cradled it as he tilted his head a little, leaning up and responding to the kiss to try and coax it into something slightly more gentle. He wasn’t going to pretend Credence didn’t feel amazing against him like this. 

 

Percival hadn’t had much positive touch since he’d first been captured, and he hadn’t bothered to go out and bring anyone home since he’d been freed again. He hadn’t noticed until this very moment just how long it had been since he’d been this close to another human being. Or how much he craved it. 

He didn’t know what had brought this on, but it was difficult to think about that when Credence reacted so _beautifully_ to him, almost melting into the kiss while his lips went softer and more pliant against the older man’s, his shoulders relaxing. 

 

Percival’s free hand came up to brush some strands of dark hair out of Credence’s face as he deepened the kiss. It felt silky now, no longer matted and dirty but with a slight wave to it, and as Graves’ fingers combed through the younger man’s hair there was a soft, surprised little sound between them. He felt the vibration of it in Credence’s lips as he kissed him. 

 

It was so easy to lose himself in this, in the feeling of Credence slowly, timidly rutting up against Percival’s side like he just couldn’t help himself. It was like he thought that Percival wouldn’t notice it if he just moved carefully enough. Merlin, he was so _lovely_ , sweet and eager and like a gift from the heavens to breathe life back into Percival’s life. 

 

Credence suddenly moved with purpose, pushing up to fully straddle Percival’s lap, who didn’t know where to put his hands for a moment because there was so much _skin_ , hot and soft against his own. The younger man weighed practically nothing and it would’ve been worrying if Graves had been thinking straight. 

 

Credence pulled back to shuffle down with clear intent, not looking at Graves’ eyes this time as he quickly kissed his way down the older man’s chest. He was clearly not very experienced at kissing, but now he moved with such intent that a thought entered Percival’s mind that had him tense up, had him reach down to grab the younger man’s arms and halt him. 

 

„Credence.“ he said, and his voice sounded hoarse, the feeling of Credence still on his lips. He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to hear the possible answer. 

„Did.. did Grindelwald ask this of you? Did.. did he make you-..“ he stopped the question because Credence’s reaction was almost immediate. 

 

He reared back like he had been struck, his eyes a little wild as he pushed himself backwards off the bed, barely catching himself on his feet. 

Percival sat up, muttering out a half hearted _Lumos_ to create a light between them and illuminate the room. Credence jerked back at the sight of it, looking hurt and somehow angry. 

„No!“ he said, his voice nearly breaking on the word and Percival found himself wishing for a rant, for words, anything at all so he could _understand_. But Credence started to blur at the edges, wisps of black smoke curling out of him without ever forming properly. It was like he was trying to change into the form Percival had encountered in the basement, but his face contorted in a grimace and a second later Percival felt a flash of white, hot and icy _pain_ shooting up his arm from the mark on his palm. 

 

„ ** _Fuck!"_** he cursed as he clutched his hand, the no-maj curse falling from his lips without thinking as he tried to get up, but Credence was already fleeing from the room. Percival found himself sitting on the side of his bed, willing the sharp pain in his hand to subside as he watched the door slam shut. 

He was tempted to go after the younger man, to try and make sense of it all, apologize for making an assumption that had apparently hit a raw nerve, but he’d needed to make sure. 

But if he did, Credence might push himself even harder, try to change and hurt himself doing it. Maybe in the morning, they could figure this out peacefully, in a way that would keep Credence calm and safe. 

 

 

Percival was still sitting in the same place a few minutes later, trying to convince himself that waiting was the right thing when his wards went off, alerting him that Credence had left the house through the window in the guest room. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! The comments I got for the first chapter were so lovely, they completely make my day! <3  
> I updated the tags because Percival /is/ asleep when Credence first gets close to him in this. Funny how this whole fic was supposed to be just about writing smut and here I am, getting caught up in plot! So much fun to write though. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are SO appreciated, thank you so much guys! xxxx


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